Finding a Tree in the Forest
by sienna27
Summary: TV Show Episode Title Challenge - Bonus Challenge #9: Operation Valentine -- Future fic. Short story. Hotch tries to plan the perfect day to tell Emily he wants her to be his Valentine. There are a few bumps along the way.
1. Operation Valentine

**Author's Note:** If you haven't noticed (and what are the odds that you would have?) Kavi and I put up our prompts this weekend. So if you check out the forum, we have the new regular ones and we ended up with eight Valentine's Day ones for the bonus. So there are FOURTEEN new prompts up!

And the bonus is what brings us here today.

It seems whenever we put up a new batch of prompts I suddenly get sidetracked with a brand new story spinning out in my head. Usually multiple stories actually but I am on a moratorium for POSTING of new multi-chapter fics (though there are a few sitting in my folders) but I am "allowed" (by my own rules) to post one shots. In this instance, it is a two shot. Though the story is completely done, breaking it up was simply by design of the fact that I was inspired by two prompts and I wanted to use both of them :) So this part goes up today. The next part will go up tomorrow.

I'm still avoiding the ugliness of season 5, so like the New Year's bonus story, just consider this taking place a bit further down the road.

This version of them is not related to any version posted before.

* * *

**Bonus Set #9**

Show: The Wild Thornberries

Title Challenge: Operation Valentine

* * *

**Operation Valentine**

Hotch anxiously popped another French fry into his mouth and began chewing with gusto.

He was studiously trying to avoid listening to any of the actual words being spoken in the conversation going on around him. His hope was that if he could just finish eating fast enough then he could fake a phone call and sprint away from the table.

Unfortunately though, he was absolutely starving! So until he had finished his chicken sandwich he couldn't implement that '_fake phone call, run like his hair was on fire'_ plan.

But he REALLY needed to implement that plan now because Garcia and JJ were doing a NONSTOP comparison of their Valentine's Day plans for the next night!

Hair . . . clothes . . . restaurants . . . SHOES! Dear GOD the SHOES!

If he absorbed one more detail about Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik he was going to have to turn in his testicles at the door.

Just knowing the difference between the two might be enough to lose one entirely.

Seriously, they'd been talking about this for the last HOUR . . . it had started in the hotel lobby . . . and if they didn't move on to another topic of conversation soon then he was going to start taking hostages.

And given that they were presently in a McDonald's in the middle of Marquette, Michigan, that would probably scare the crap out of a few of the locals.

The reason that they were stuck in Marquette was a snow delay. Two feet had fallen the day before and they were still clearing the runways.

The delay itself was a pain in the ass, but the snow had admittedly made for an amusing chase through the streets last night when their UNSUB had decided to take a runner out the back door of his halfway house.

Spencer ran into a telephone pole and Morgan had tripped over a fire hydrant. Really if it wasn't for Emily and JJ tackling the suspect at the end of the block he might have gotten away.

So for the girls' good work they'd had first dibs on where to eat today. They'd picked McDonald's but Morgan and Reid had wanted pizza . . . Hotch told them to suck it up and to watch where they were running next time . . . but then they'd lucked out when they'd pulled up out front and had seen the pizzeria across the street.

There's where they were now.

And Dave being Dave, he'd just rolled his eyes at the Valentine's chatter before he disappeared saying he'd catch up with them at the airport.

So Hotch was now stuck alone with the women. Not that he didn't love them all dearly, but right now he'd kill for an AFC post game show to make him feel like a man again.

Their revised flight plan gave them a departure time of sixteen hundred . . . Hotch's eyes dropped down to his wristwatch . . . five hours from now.

". . . oh my GOD you got reservations at the INN!?" Garcia squealed.

He wasn't sure if he was going to make it.

Just then he glanced over to see that he didn't appear to be the only one in agony right then.

His brow wrinkled as he saw Emily staring down at her half eaten burger.

She looked . . . sad.

A few minutes ago she'd been engaged in the conversation but as he thought back he realized that her smile had been a little too bright. And she hadn't actually mentioned doing anything herself tomorrow.

His eyes widened slightly . . . she was faking interest in the other women's plans for the next night.

Then he focused his thoughts on the true topic of conversation at the table.

Valentine's Day.

Emily didn't have a boyfriend and she was stuck at the table with two women in steady long term relationships planning their big Valentine's nights.

And Emily had no Valentine.

Well . . . he scowled slightly at the blondes . . . that was a bit insensitive.

Granted, he himself had no Valentine either, but men didn't care about Valentine's Day. Not beyond screwing it up anyway.

But for women . . . most women anyway . . . it was kind of a big deal. And obviously . . . he saw Emily quickly paste on a bright smile as JJ asked her a question . . . Emily was one of those women.

The pain in his gut reminded him that his feelings for the sweet, kindhearted, dark haired beauty had stopped being simply platonic some time ago. So maybe this might be a good time to . . . to . . .

He frowned slightly at his chicken sandwich as he tried to decide what this might be a good time to do.

Well . . . he picked up the sandwich and took another bite . . . probably make a declaration of some kind.

After all, it was Valentine's Day . . . his eyes flicked across the table again . . . Emily clearly was unhappy that she was alone, and about three months ago he'd stopped trying to pretend that he could wait until retirement to tell her how he felt.

Mostly he'd just been trying to think of a good way to broach the topic.

His jaw twitched slightly as he saw the smile fall away again . . . clearly the topic had now been broached.

Okay, on the flight home he'd figure out a Valentine's Day plan. And tomorrow morning . . . Emily glanced over at him and he winked at her . . . he'd begin implementation.

//////

The next morning Emily trudged through the glass doors of the BAU dressed all in black.

It was her color of protest . . . she hated Valentine's Day.

Actually . . . with a sigh she stopped and looked around at all the red and pink ties and blouses in the bullpen . . . she didn't hate it so much as she dreaded it.

Every year it was another in your face reminder that she was all alone.

Like the cold sheets and perpetually closed toilet seat lid weren't doing that already!

Having a whole day devoted to reminding her of her status was just an added cruelty. She scowled as she thought back on JJ and Garcia yesterday.

'_Oh we're so happy, we're so in love, we're just the most awesome couples in the whole wide world!'_

Yeah well . . . she glowered at the two of them over gushing at the coffeemaker . . . choke on it.

Just then she felt a hand on her back and she turned to see Hotch smiling at her.

Apparently she was so busy shooting daggers at the population at large that she hadn't heard him come through the door behind her.

"Good Morning Prentiss," Hotch said softly as he caught her eyes.

As he walked up to the glass, Hotch had seen Emily was stopped just inside the door looking at JJ and Garcia a few yards away.

The scowl on her face rivaled anything he'd doled out recently.

Obviously she was doing even worse today then yesterday. But hopefully . . . his hand discretely glided down her arm . . . he could do something to change that soon.

Despite her mood, Emily's eyes crinkled . . . she did love it when he used that tone. Even when he used it in conjunction with her last name, it was oddly intimate.

And he didn't seem to use the tone with anyone else so it made it special.

Then she took note of the fact that his hand was loosely grasping her wrist . . . his fingertips were warm against her cold flesh . . . so she gave him a little smile as she responded in the same tone of voice, "good morning Hotch."

As she stared into his eyes for just a second she forgot that she was utterly miserable and alone.

Then Garcia burst out laughing and she felt a splash of cold water douse her good mood . . . right miserable and alone.

_Thanks God! Got it!_

Hotch saw her expression fall again and his hand moved up to grasp her shoulder as he started guiding her along, speaking softly as they went.

"You look nice today Agent Prentiss."

Actually she looked beautiful with her pink cheeks and the snowflakes in her hair . . . but that wasn't the kind of thing he could blurt out in the middle of the bullpen.

As it was he only felt comfortable saying what he had while using her title. That way if anyone overhead him . . . unlikely, but possible . . . then it would sound like a polite compliment from a colleague.

Emily shot him a funny look before her eyes dropped down to her chest, "my coat's still buttoned so how do you know that I look nice today," she stammered slightly, "I mean I'm not saying I DO look nice, I'm just saying if I _did_ look nice, then how would you even know?"

_Geez Em! Spastic much?!_

Hotch's lips twitched slightly at her fumble . . . he could see she was a bit flustered, but he thought she was cute.

They were just getting to the area she shared with Morgan and Reid, so Hotch squeezed her shoulder slightly so she'd stop. Seeing that they were completely alone, he quickly whispered the truth of the matter in her ear.

"I can say it because you look nice every day Emily."

Then he shot her a quick dimple before he continued past her and up the stairs to his office.

Completely thrown by Hotch's comment, Emily stared after him for a moment.

Wow . . . her eyes stung slightly . . . that was a really sweet thing to say.

The moment was ruined a second later when she felt a paperclip smack her in the forehead.

Her eyes snapped over to the desks . . . Morgan.

"Girl, would you get your ass over here and open this card on your desk?"

Christ . . . he scowled at her . . . he'd been sitting there for twenty minutes waiting for her to show up so he could see who'd left it!

Card?! What the hell was he . . . then Emily's eyes flicked down to her desk calendar to see a big pink envelope sitting there with her name printed across the front.

A slow grin spread across her face . . . she got a VALENTINE!

Then she remembered that Derek and Reid were still staring at her and she shot them a quick scowl as she hurried over to her desk.

"What difference does it make to you if I open the card?" Her bag dropped to the floor as she shot Morgan a smirk, "it's not like I'm going to share the PRIVATE contents with you."

Ignoring the ribald comments that resulted from her response . . . Spenser had been spending entirely too much time around Derek . . . Emily took off her coat and sat down in her chair.

Her fingers traced over the smooth pink paper . . . she hadn't received a surprise Valentine since she was in high school.

One of the boys in her AV group . . . Brian . . . had left it in her backpack.

Granted it had a Klingon on it so it wasn't exactly the most romantic token of affection.

Still though, the _thought _was sweet.

Certainly sweeter than the Frederick's of Hollywood sleazy hot pink lingerie she'd received from her boyfriend sophomore year in college. Or the phallic shaped chocolate lollipops she'd received from the DEA agent she was dating out in Indianapolis four years later. He couldn't understand why she was upset.

He thought they were funny.

She said "yeah, for a bachelorette party they were frigging hilarious. For Valentine's Day, not so much."

In her forty plus years on the planet she'd had only four or five "nice" Valentine's days. Straightforward, dinner, flowers, candy . . . sex.

Those were the standards, and the standards were just fine with her.

It's not like she'd ever been hoping to get a ring from any of those men she happened to have been seeing casually (or semi-seriously) when February 14th had rolled around.

Even with the dinner, flowers, candy, sex she still rarely got nice cards.

That was okay though. Most Valentine's Day cards were about love and fate and all that fairytale stuff.

It was better not to get some false promise of love ever after. It would just make her bitter.

That little nugget of wisdom came to her after she opened the box of long stemmed phallic lollipops when she was expecting that there would be roses inside.

To add insult to injury the chocolate had tasted like crap.

Then the last five years had resulted in a total dry spell on Valentine's Day . . . her finger slid along the seam of the card . . . not only had she not received any nice gifts, she hadn't received _any _gifts at all.

So whoever had left this for her had no idea how much it meant.

Though as she slid out the mysterious card she still sent up a silent wish that there wouldn't be any dirty limericks inside.

But then a smile touched her lips as she saw the outside of the card . . . so far so good. The cover had a pink rose in a vase and the note simply said, '_Happy Valentine's Day_.'

She opened the card.

'_You are the bringer of good things to my life.'_

It was the preprinted message but still . . . she bit her lip . . . that was really nice.

But aside from an X and an O it was unsigned.

Her eyes scanned the bullpen . . . who could have left this for her?

Nobody was looking in her direction . . . except . . . her head ducked down.

CROOKSHANKS!

Oh God please don't let it be Special Agent Crookshanks!

They'd had a VERY unfortunate encounter at the Christmas party. Turns out Crookshanks (first name _Mary_) had been informed by one of the guys in Arson . . . a guy whose ass she'd kicked the week before for making a VERY inappropriate pass at her in the elevator . . . that Emily was gay.

Gay and looking for love.

A slightly inebriated Mary Crookshanks had cornered her under the mistletoe and planted one on her.

As Emily fixed her smudged lipstick . . . all things considered it was a pretty good kiss . . . she'd politely . . . and awkwardly . . . explained to Mary that she was very flattered.

But also very straight.

Every since that night the two of them had exchanged polite, tight smiles when they ran into each other at the copy machine or in the break room.

So if this _was_ from her, clearly things were going to get way more awkward again.

Emily's eyes slyly shifted back across the room and she sighed . . . oh, phew.

She was talking to that new girl.

And the new girl was flicking her hair back over her shoulder as she laughed at something the other woman was saying.

Okay . . . Emily slowly exhaled . . . Mary clearly had moved on to greener . . . she scowled slightly . . . _younger_ . . . pastures.

Okay Em, get a grip! You're NOT gay! So being resentful that you've been replaced by a girl in her twenties is rather ridiculous.

Pushing the lesbians out of her head completely, Emily's eyes dropped down to the card in her hand . . . but that still didn't answer her question about who left this for her.

And she couldn't think of any men in the office . . . besides octopus hands on the elevator . . . that had so much as glanced in her direction recently.

God . . . she had a horrible thought . . . please don't let it be octopus hands!

No, wait . . . she quickly reminded herself that she'd threatened to take off his hairpiece in the middle of the cafeteria if he so much as breathed in her direction again. Clearly that was not conducive to, 'hey but feel free to drop me a Valentine!' So it had to be somebody else.

But she was drawing a complete blank.

Oh well . . . she sighed as she opened her drawer and slipped the card inside . . . the Valentine itself was sweet. She began booting up her computer . . . it was just too bad he hadn't signed the card.

She hadn't met a nice guy in forever.

//////

Hotch watched through his blinds as Emily slid the card inside her desk.

His brow wrinkled . . . what the hell?

At first she'd seemed delighted at finding the envelope on her desk. But now she looked . . . not sad . . . not like yesterday, but still, she didn't look excited anymore.

She looked disappointed.

Grrr . . . he started kicking himself . . . he should have signed it! But he'd thought that might have been a bit out of the blue for her. So instead he figured he'd do this now . . . give her something to think about during the morning . . . and then he'd take Step 2 this afternoon.

But now he could see that they were in need of a Step 1.5. Because the whole point of this was to not only take some long overdue steps in moving their relationship forward . . . but also to give her a good day.

And as he saw her biting her lip as she started sorting through the items in her inbox, he could see that he'd definitely fallen short on the good day benchmark.

Damn it.

Okay . . . he checked his watch . . . briefing in fifty-two minutes.

That left him plenty of time for a course correction.

Of course . . . his head swiveled around to look at the snowflakes that were swirling down behind his window . . . unless he wanted Emily to know what he was up to he was going to have to leave his coat behind.

Hello frostbite.

But she wasn't an idiot . . . he looked back down at her sorting her mail . . . he had no reason at all to be going outside in the middle of the morning.

Especially if it was snowing.

So if she saw him going out with his coat and then suddenly she had a new present, she'd certainly put two and two together. Even if she wasn't 100% sure that it was him, it would be enough to make her suspicious.

And he was going for a whole thing here. If he'd just wanted to announce his attentions he would have bought some sappy heart shaped card and signed his name to it.

But he was trying to do something more original . . . more genuine . . . to express his affection for her. That's why he'd come in extra early today so he could put the card on her desk before anyone else arrived.

He wanted it to be a total surprise. Again, he was TRYING to give her a good day.

That was also why he was planning on waiting until after lunch to take the next step in the plan.

God knows he couldn't buy a dozen long stems on his way to work. And then what? Leave them in the bottom of his desk drawer for the next nine hours in his heated office?

Yeah, he'd be giving her DEAD roses tonight!

Oh well . . . with a huff he stepped out his door, hurrying down the steps . . . a wise man adjusts his plans accordingly.

And . . . his expression softened as he shot her a quick wink as she glanced up at him . . . nobody said getting the girl was supposed to be a piece of cake.

* * *

_A/N 2: The title of the story is in reference to Emily's complete obliviousness that Hotch could be her secret Valentine. Her reasons for not seeing him as her "tree" will be explained in chapter 2._

_The card is an actual card I saw on the Hallmark site. They had one for 'new relationships.' And I figure he didn't really have a lot of time when they got home (the night before Valentine's Day) to go out and get THE perfect card. But that one would work for him in a pinch.  
_

_As a follow-up a couple weeks ago to my mention of the CM FanFic awards, the nominations are up now and I got a few! Definitely more than the first day when I heard I'd been nominated so obviously a couple other people had put me in for something. So again, thanks very much :) I really do appreciate it. If you're interested in voting for anyone . . . there are FF H/P writers in every category there . . . you can get to the site on Live Journal. And you don't have to have an account on LJ to vote. _

_I will put up the next part tomorrow night. Because the story is just the two chapters (and the prompts were so key to the plot) for a change I've decided to just use the prompt titles as the chapter titles here. _

_So next up is: __**"The One with the Candy Hearts."**_


	2. The Color of Love

**Author's Note:** I was planning for this to be a two shot but me getting sick ended up prolonging the typing up of the ending, and then when I went back to it, my brain added another scene. Sooo, I decided to post this part and then I'll finish up the day in a third chapter. The candy hearts one I had intended to put up next.

* * *

**The Color of Love**

An hour after the briefing Emily returned to her desk to find a note with her name on it sitting where the card had been earlier.

This time her entire face lit up . . . her valentine WASN'T supposed to stay a mystery!

YAY!!!

After checking to see if Morgan and Reid were paying attention . . . nope . . . they were still engaged in the same lofty debate they'd been in when she left for the bathroom.

Attempting to determine the technical measurements of February's Playmate of the Month.

Reid had worked out a mathematical formula to determine her exact measurements that involved a laser scan and a computer program he'd written.

Morgan had then told him that he was an idiot and that all he had to do was read the bio bubble on the page. Then Reid countered that he'd scientifically determined that in the "article" February's bust size had been artificially inflated (so to speak) to indicate that she was in fact two inches larger than she really was.

This of course engendered a sense of moral outrage in Derek and the two of them were now debating writing a letter to Hef.

So really . . . Emily excitedly opened the note . . . just a usual day at the office.

'_Supply room . . . bottom shelf, behind the post it notes.'_

Her lips twitched . . . okay, unless Tom Thumb was the one leaving her these notes this was definitely NOT the designated locale for a mid-day rendezvous.

She slipped the note into her pocket, again scanning the room and again seeing nobody paying her any extra attention.

Okay . . . her eyes crinkled as she headed around the corner to the supply room . . . time to stock up on sticky notes.

As she approached the door, Emily snapped her head back around to see if she could catch anyone watching her.

No.

Well . . . she rolled her eyes as she opened the door . . . not unexpected given that the supply room was seven feet down the hall and around the corner from the open air of the bullpen.

'_Nobody can even SEE you right now dumbass!'_

Pushing aside her embarrassment over the momentary dip in her IQ . . . she was blaming it on her exposure to the Playmate of the Month conversation . . . Emily snapped the lights on and stepped further into the room.

Her eyes scanned the lower shelves until she spotted the rows of various shaped yellow sticky pads.

Taking a deep breath to quell her excitement . . . she didn't even know who her valentine WAS yet . . . she headed over and stooped down to look behind the stickies.

The grin slid across her face again . . . there was a long white box with a bow.

PRESENTS!

She pushed the office supplies to the side so she could slide the box out.

'_Please no phallic lollipops . . . please no phallic lollipops . . . please no phallic lollipops.'_

The chant ran in her head as she slipped the red silk ribbon off the box.

Slowly she lifted the lid and then her eyes lit up . . . YES!!

FLOWERS!

Pink roses and . . . her heart started to beat a little faster . . . purple tulips!

Oh . . . she bit her lip . . . purple was her favorite color. Her excitement began to grow as she stared down at the mixed assortment of flowers . . . so that meant her secret Valentine was somebody that she knew!

Somebody that she knew _well, _actually.

Because it's not like she herself had recently had a spread in Playboy listing her favorite color, her favorite food and her big plans for world peace involving snow cone machines and puppies for everyone.

Another clue . . . or really _A _clue. Because she hadn't had any ideas at all before she saw the purple tulips.

Okay . . . she put the cover back on the box . . . as fun as it was to get secret Valentine presents, she couldn't let this totally derail her day. It was time to get back to work.

Though . . . her brow wrinkled slightly as she looked up at the assortment of old scratched vases on the top shelf of the storage cabinet . . . it would be best to put these in water.

They'd wilt if she left them on her desk all day in the box.

After she placed the box on the floor, she slid a crate of paper over to stand on so she could reach the vases.

And . . . her fingers wiggled fruitlessly . . . she was still too short.

Damn.

Apparently somebody had been afraid of the vases falling off so they'd been pushed way back on the shelf.

Just out of reach even on her tip toes.

Her jaw twitched back and forth as she debated stacking a second paper crate to increase the height of her makeshift stepstool.

Somehow she just knew it was a bad idea . . . yet still . . . she hefted one of the forty pound boxes into her arms . . . she couldn't seem to stop herself.

Then she realized the two crates together were too high to simply step up on so she slid over a third to use as a stepstool to the stepstool.

Just after she stepped up onto the second crate . . . as she was reaching up to inch her fingers along again . . . she suddenly heard.

"PRENTISS! What the HELL are you doing!?"

Hotch had wanted to see if she liked the flowers so he'd come looking for her on the pretext of getting a legal pad.

He was just in time to see that she was apparently very unhappy with the bouquet because it appeared that she was trying to commit suicide via a very tiny platform.

Hearing Hotch's voice, Emily automatically whipped her head around. Unfortunately her sudden movement resulted in the box beneath her shifting to the side.

Uh oh . . . apparently one of the boxes was missing a few reams of paper.

"OH SHIT!" she yelped as the jerry rigged stepstool tipped to the left.

Just before she went tumbling assbackwards onto the cold tile Hotch caught her.

"Uh . . . hi," she said sheepishly as she looked up at him.

Well, this was embarrassing.

"Hello," Hotch responded drolly as he shifted her weight in his arms, "care to tell me what the hell you were doing just now?"

Good GOD she could have cracked her skull! Or at the very least broken her wrist or ankle.

"Um," she cleared her throat as her gaze shifted past him to the storage unit, "getting a vase down."

_Yeah Em, next time the little voice in your head (the one that sounded suspiciously like the man she was pressed against at the moment) tells you that your plan is a bad one, LISTEN TO HIM!_

His eyes widened . . . a VASE!

Oh crap! She was getting a vase for the flowers! That meant this was HIS fault! Christ!

He'd nearly MAIMED her!

Suddenly his smooth, in control Supervisory Special Agent-in-Charge persona fled and Near State of Panic Aaron . . . a man who had nearly BROKEN the woman he was in love with and trying to get to go OUT with him . . . took over.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly.

The question came out like a frog's croak.

Emily blushed slightly in embarrassment, "yeah, I'm fine," then she patted the arm wrapped around her waist, "so you can um, you know put me down now," she gave him a little smile, "thanks to you I didn't bust my ankle or anything so I can stand up just fine."

Not that him holding her like this wasn't nice . . . this was in fact VERY nice . . . but Hotch was off limits. Though it no longer really felt like it, he was indeed her boss and he was a spit and polish kind of guy.

That meant no fraternization.

So her not so little crush/hopeless adoration of her boss would always remain entirely one sided.

Then suddenly a little voice in the back of her head . . . this one sounded like JJ . . . pointed out how closely he was holding her . . . and that he'd been holding her a bit longer than was strictly necessary under the circumstances. She wasn't actually hurt.

That voice also pointed out that Hotch knew her favorite color was purple.

No . . . she slammed the door shut on that idea . . . it couldn't be Hotch. So there was no point in getting her hopes up that it was.

It would just be a crushing disappointment when later this afternoon some guy from the copy room showed up.

Hotch knew he needed to put Emily down. Just in principle of course he needed to do it. But he also knew that the door was open and somebody could walk in and totally misconstrue what was going on here.

But he was thinking.

Should he just tell her now? After all, he totally fell flat with the unsigned note this morning, and then just almost killed her with the cute little hidden flower thing, so it appeared that he was a bit rusty in the "wooing" department.

Maybe it would be best to get it over with before blood was actually spilled.

He frantically chewed his lip as she stared at him in bewildered amusement.

No . . . he slowly lowered her to the ground . . . not yet. Not when he was the reason she'd nearly broken her neck climbing up to get a vase down. Really . . . he took a half a step back from her . . . best to let that moment fade slightly before he announced he was the jackass that almost killed her.

Though that was no reason to waste the opportunity completely, so he took a breath, reached over and fixed her slightly mussed hair as he inquired with what he hoped was a casual tone.

"A vase you say?" His brow quirked up, "why do you need a vase?"

Best to play stupid here, after all there were no flowers obviously in evidence. Though he did of course clearly recognize the rectangular box on the floor as being the one he'd purchased when he'd run out that morning.

For a second Emily stared at him . . . Hotch had just run his fingers through her hair. Hotch had not once in all the years she'd known him run his fingers through her hair.

Yes she knew that he was just fixing it, but still. That was . . . she felt a little tingle in her stomach . . . unexpected.

But she reluctantly put the thought aside . . . still off limits . . . as she realized that he was waiting for an answer.

"Uh," she cleared her throat as she stooped down to pick up her present, "I got flowers and I didn't want them to wilt," her eyes shifted down to the box as she added softly, "they're really pretty."

Hotch's expression softened as he saw the look on her face . . . that's what he wanted.

To make her happy.

And right now making her happy meant getting her a vase. He really should have thought of that before and put one down on the floor for her. But that's what he got for changing course mid-stream.

He hadn't planned for the little things.

"Well," he gave her a soft smile, "pretty flowers are nice," he quirked his lip up before he moved over to get her a vase from the top shelf, "but it is Valentine's Day after all. Aren't they a tradition?"

A few decades of marriage had taught him that roses were a solid purchase for the holiday. And he was pretty sure he'd done well with the added tulips.

She loved purple.

He would have bought purple roses but they weren't exactly an overstock item. And given that he'd pulled this plan together on the plane ride home yesterday, he hadn't had a chance to get them special ordered.

Emily smiled, "I suppose they are, but I haven't gotten pretty flowers for Valentine's Day in years."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized that sounded kind of pathetic. So she quickly changed the subject as she eyed him hopefully, "you didn't see who left them did you?"

Hotch sometimes watched the bullpen to get the pulse of what was going on that day. He might have noticed somebody going to the supply room.

Hotch stared at her for a second before he slowly shook his head, "no, sorry, I didn't see anyone leave you flowers."

That was NOT a lie. He had left them himself and therefore he had not SEEN anyone do anything.

Yes, he was splitting hairs, but he was a lawyer . . . that's what they did. And a law degree definitely came in handy in finding loopholes so you did NOT lie to the gorgeous woman standing in front of you when she asked you point blank questions that you didn't want to answer entirely truthfully.

Emily pouted slightly, "oh well," yeah that would have been too easy.

Then her eyes twinkled as she eyed Hotch stepping up on the lower crate to take down a vase for her, "you don't have any general guesses for me do you?" He looked at her over his shoulder and she smirked at him, "you know, help a girl out with little off duty profiling."

Yes, she was flirting with one man as she tried to determine the identity of another. But she rarely got Hotch all to herself unless they were scoping crime scenes or driving to interviews.

Neither circumstance was known for being conducive to getting your flirt on. And just because Hotch was off limits didn't mean she couldn't have a good time all the less.

Some days really that's all she had.

Hotch's lips twitched slightly as he stepped down to the floor again, "ah, but I'm still on duty," he handed her the vase with a wink, "and I can't perform extraneous profiling no matter how nicely the pretty girl asks."

Okay, definitely climbing WAY out on a limb here. If he wasn't actually 'wooing' right now he'd most definitely be 'sexually harassing.'

Feeling the blush climb her cheeks, Emily she bit her lip as she stared at him . . . he said she was pretty.

As the shy smile blossomed on Emily's face, Hotch had a sudden desire to kiss her.

That would be a declaration. And to his amazement he started to lean in to do it.

But then he heard a noise from the bullpen and he snapped into reality again.

Right . . . he cleared his throat . . . making out with beautiful subordinates in the supply room was a very bad career move.

Emily blinked . . . for just a second she could have sworn that Hotch was going to kiss her. But that was crazy! Like seriously CRAZY! Even if he had been inclined to ever plant one on her (which he wasn't) he sure as hell wouldn't do it in the middle of the office!

Still though . . . she felt her heart rate speed up as he stepped closer . . . she couldn't deny he was having an effect on her today. Probably just the whole secret Valentine thing getting her usually dormant libido going.

Yeah . . . she touched her neck nervously as she got a whiff of his aftershave . . . just a physiological reaction. That's all it was . . . she swallowed . . . physiological.

Seeing Emily's breath quicken Hotch hid his smile as he moved over to hand her the vase . . . even if she didn't know it was him yet he was definitely making progress.

Just as she put her hand out to take the scratched crystal, he realized that she was already carrying the box of flowers.

Her hands were full.

"Come on," he tipped his head towards the door, "I'll carry it."

With the way his luck was going today she'd drop the vase, a piece of glass would go flying up and she'd slice open a vein. Then they'd spend the rest of the day in the emergency room with him apologizing profusely as she got a half dozen stitches.

Very romantic.

Emily stared at him for a moment before she nodded, "uh, okay, if you don't mind," she flashed him a brilliant smile, "thanks."

Hotch was touching her hair, calling her pretty and now helping her arrange flowers. Maybe this was bizarro world Valentine's Day.

Of course . . . they stepped back into the main hall . . . she'd already received a nice card and a beautiful bouquet of flowers, clearly this WAS bizarro world Valentine's Day!

As they walked down to the break area Hotch tried to think of something to say to gauge how his efforts had gone so far.

"So the flowers," he pretended to muse offhand before he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, "have you considered Agent Crookshanks?"

Of course he was just trying to throw her off, but Crookshanks actually was a good guess. That kiss had been witnessed by half the BAU.

Dave had a picture of it as the wallpaper on his phone.

Emily shot Hotch a look and then remembered that the same thought had crossed her mind and holstered the smart remark that was about to come with the evil eye.

"It's not her," she jerked her head across the room, "the new redhead has her eye."

Trying to be discrete, Hotch eyeballed the transfer from Missing Children . . . ah yes, Meaghan Sullivan. He'd interviewed her a few weeks ago. And though of course he'd noted that she was attractive . . . he wasn't blind . . . he'd only been interested in her credentials then. Now he looked her over a bit more objectively.

Pretty girl, nice hair . . . his eyes dropped down . . . _very_ nice legs.

Crookshanks had good taste.

His gaze shifted back to the woman at his side . . . but of course Crookshanks' good taste had been previously established with the mistletoe incident.

When they got to the kitchen he debated whether he could conceivably stick around any longer without her thinking that he'd been smoking something funny up in his office.

No . . . he slowly placed the vase on the counter . . . probably not. Step 1.5 had been a success . . . he turned back to her . . . best to walk away for now.

"Okay," he smiled as he stepped passed her, "I'll leave you to your flowers."

As Hotch started to walk away Emily called out, "thanks again!" When he looked back she smiled, "you know for keeping me from falling on my ass."

"Anytime," he paused a split second too long before adding, "it keeps the reflexes sharp."

For a second he had been utterly horrified to realize that he'd been about to say what a nice ass it was! Fortunately he caught himself because, a) they were in the middle of the bullpen, and the flurry of complaints from his OTHER female agents would have resulted in a do not pass go trip to Strauss/HR for him. Then of course there was b) Emily herself . . . the object of his desire and affection. She would have gone straight past assuming he was smoking dope to assuming that he'd had a minor stroke earlier today and required immediate medical attention.

And has already previously been established in his mind . . . he shot Emily one more look across the room as he walked back up the stairs to his office . . . spending the afternoon in the ER was NOT a romantic Valentine's Day.

He stepped into his office already mentally planning how to go about executing Step 2 to well, however many steps it took.

//////

After she finished her flower arranging . . . the bouquet was enormous . . . Emily went back to her desk and plopped down her vase down in the middle of it. Both Morgan and Spenser looked up with their mouths open. They exchanged a quick glance before Reid stood up to take a sniff as he asked with interest.

"Where did you get the flowers Emily?"

It was Spencer's inquiry this time because it had been agreed between the two men earlier that if Emily had any more interesting developments on the Valentine's front, that he would take point on follow-up.

The simple reason for that was that Emily blew Derek's questions off just on principle.

"The supply room," Emily responded matter of factly as she waved Reid's nose out of her bouquet.

The big dummy was allergic to roses . . . she rolled her eyes at him . . . he was going to be swelling up like a porcupine if he got any of the oils on his nose.

"The SUPPLY room," Derek responded incredulously.

Just because he agreed with Reid that he could take point, didn't mean that he had agreed to keep his mouth shut. And Emily randomly discovering a Valentine's bouquet in the supply room was worthy of incredulity.

"Uh, huh," Emily responded in the same casual tone.

Not about to be baited into a discussion of the contents of her secret notes, Emily sat down, adjusting the arrangement as she directed her question over the desk, "you guys didn't see anybody go in there earlier did you?"

The two men exchanged another glance before Reid responded, "no, we didn't see anyone. So wait," he leaned forward, "does that mean you don't know who's leaving you these things?"

Weird.

She nodded, "yeah," then a thought occurred to her and she looked over worriedly, "wait it's not you guys right?"

Not that that wouldn't be a sweet gesture but it would also be a bit humiliating to discover one of them was her secret valentine.

Kind of like your brother offering to take you to the prom because nobody else asked you to go.

But from the looks she got back . . . utter confusion from Reid . . . and Morgan . . . well that was the same expression Garcia got when she asked if he'd like to see Fraggle Rock on ice . . . she was assured that theory was a no go.

And as the guys settled back in with their paperwork, Emily sighed happily as she looked over at her pretty bouquet.

Purple . . . the tip of her forefinger slid over the silken petal of the tulip . . . now who knew that she liked purple? Yes, it was possible it was just a bizarre coincidence but she doubted it.

People mixed red and pink and red and yellow, rarely did you see red and purple.

No . . . she unlocked her computer . . . it had to be deliberate. And now she had a project for lunch.

Make a list of suspects.

* * *

_A/N 2: Little side fact, purple roses are actually the color of desire and "Teleflora" suggests them as a good "love at first sight" Valentine's Day flower :) But again, Hotch was planning this last minute and I just didn't see their local flower shop being stocked up on purple roses on Valentine's Day. _

_One more chapter here. Hopefully before the weekend._

_I actually have one more story that I'm hoping to update tonight. But I have to finish my laundry first ;)_


	3. Love, Actually, Possibly, Maybe Yes

**Author's Note**: The conclusion. So I got TWO stories finished this weekend! All together now, YAY! :)

Also, FYI, we put up new prompts and a new thread to request stories.

* * *

**Bonus Set #9**

Show: Friends

Title Challenge: The One with the Candy Hearts

* * *

**Love, Actually, Possibly, Maybe . . . Yes  
**

After Emily found the flowers in the supply room, the rest of the morning flew by with paperwork and assisting the boys with the proper wording of their protest letter to Playboy.

They'd needed some tasteful synonyms for 'breasts.'

So by lunch she was very much looking forward to a little time alone to focus on the secret valentine mystery. As soon as the computer clock ticked over to one, she locked her computer, grabbed her coat and a mini notepad and headed out to Starbucks to make her list.

Twenty minutes after she sat down in the corner of the coffee shop she'd finished most of her grande Sumatra and low fat cranberry orange muffin. She'd also given herself a slight headache wracking her brain to come up with a list of suspects.

It ended up being a short list.

Six _definitive _names on it (the team), plus three additional . . . read really farfetched . . . maybes. All had regular access to the BAU (they wouldn't be noticed as strangers) and they knew (or possibly knew) that her favorite color was purple.

As clues went it wasn't much to go on, but the purple thing was at least fairly unique.

She crossed off the straight women . . . JJ and Garcia . . . then she crossed off the boys . . . Morgan and Reid.

That left five.

Her nose wrinkled as she stared at Dave's name. Then she crossed him off . . . no, just . . . no. Rossi would NOT do anything cute like hide a box of flowers for her in the supply closet. He'd like leave a packet of condoms on her desk or something.

Okay . . . she bobbed her head back and forth . . . perhaps that was a little unfair. It's not like she'd ever seen Dave in 'romance mode' but still, she'd bet a month's pay that it wasn't him.

For one thing he liked blondes . . . and for another, he once, after a shit case got stinking drunk and told her that if he'd ever had a daughter that he would have hoped that she'd come out just like her. And then he said that her father must be so proud.

It was the sweetest thing that _anyone_ had ever said to her. She'd actually cried as she helped him up off the bar room floor. And there was no way that she was reconciling THAT Dave . . . father figure Dave . . . with one that would later have _any _romantic feelings for her.

So really, just . . . her nose wrinkled distastefully again . . . no.

She went down the list one more time.

Hmmm . . . Special Agents Mundy and Greenwell.

They were only added as maybes because she was getting desperate for names outside the team. She'd dated them two and three years ago respectively, for one and two months respectively. And she figured that it was possible during those cumulative twelve weeks of time that one of them might have learned that her favorite color was purple.

Yes, long shots.

Longer still . . . and rather more embarrassing now that she thought about it . . . both were now happily married.

In fact Mundy just had twins.

Ooookay . . . she slashed two lines across the middle of the page.

Now the list was two.

But only one name intrigued her . . . only one name had she been consciously averting her eyes from during the whole elimination process.

Hotch.

But now it was just down to the last two and given the slim pickings, it was impossible to just dismiss him outright. Was it really possible . . . she chewed her lip nervously . . . could he _really_ be her secret Valentine?

He was a closet sweetie so she could see him doing the scavenger hunt flower thing. So there was that . . . but that wasn't much by itself.

She stared at his name for almost a minute, trying to find some sliver of justification to allow herself to hope that it really was him.

No . . . finally she shook her head sadly as a line slowly went through his name . . . no, she couldn't leave him on the list. So many years had already passed, if he was interested . . . and more importantly if he was inclined to look past the rules that would prohibit their relationship . . . then he would have done something much earlier. And nothing had changed recently in regards to policy or their respective personal lives . . . no great traumas or crises . . . so why would he suddenly be wooing her on Valentine's Day when he had never shown any romantic interest in her before?

Not that he hadn't been somewhat affectionate on occasion, especially when he had a few beers, he'd put his arm around her in the bar, or he'd ask her to dance and hold her a little closer than Morgan or Rossi would. And yes, granted, maybe she'd caught him looking at her for no reason a dozen or so times over the years.

But a few POSSIBLE longing glances or drunken dances, or Christmas hugs that went on a little too long, were nothing to pin her hopes and dreams on.

Even if that was . . . she thought sadly . . . the only place she wanted them pinned.

With a heavy heart her eyes dropped to the page again. And then her heart got even heavier as she stared at the only name left on the list.

Crookshanks.

Again . . . she bit her lip . . . how the hell had that happened?!

Just then Emily heard a scuff on the floor and her head snapped up to see Hotch holding a cup of coffee looking down worriedly at her.

"What's wrong?"

She looked sad. Why did she look sad?! She was supposed to be having a good, happy day.

Emily quickly tried to paste on a smile but she knew from the look on Hotch's face that it faltered. So she gave it up as she shook her head dismissively, "I'm okay, I'm just . . ."

Feeling her voice about to catch Emily abruptly stopped talking and dropped her eyes down to the white sheet of paper.

'_. . . going to die alone,'_ she finished pathetically in her head. Yes, it was a tad dramatic but sometimes you can't help the stray thoughts that float through your mind.

Hotch stepped closer to the table, curling his fingers around her shoulder as his worried gaze followed hers. He wanted to see what she was looking at that had so upset her.

His brow wrinkled . . . a list of names with lines through them.

Why would a list of names make her . . . his eyes widened . . . oh . . . CRAP!

'_NO! NO! NO! Please don't be upset about what I think you're upset about!'_

"Emily," trying to delay his rising panic Hotch started softly as he stooped down next to her and put his coffee on the table, "were you making a list to see who sent you the flowers this morning?"

'_Please say no! Please say I didn't totally fuck this part of the day up too!'_

With a weary nod she whispered back, "yeah. I made a list of everyone who has regular access to the BAU because you know an outsider would have caught the attention of a group of behavioralists, and then I narrowed it down further by anyone who could possibly know my favorite color. And as far as the evidence goes it appears that Agent Crookshanks probably sent them."

She paused for a second, "I mean it's nice if she was just you know, being nice, but," her eyes started to get watery, "I just thought for sure that it was somebody," a tear ran down her face as her voice started to get choked, "somebody that plays on my team. Somebody that liked me and I could go out with and well," another tear fell, "you know."

It was stupid that she was letting this upset her so much. It was just a bouquet of flowers, not an engagement ring. The point was that whoever had sent them had meant well and she should just be grateful for the sentiment. She knew that both of those things were true. But she just couldn't help thinking that this had been some sort of test . . . and that she'd failed.

She was still fairly attractive, basically a nice person and the only one sending her a Valentine's Day present . . . the only one in YEARS to send her a Valentine's Day present . . . was a woman who already knew that she had not a shot in hell with her.

Another tear fell . . . a woman who must have just felt sorry for her because she didn't have anyone.

Emily had never felt more pathetic and alone in her life.

Hotch's chest was aching. Really he couldn't have felt any worse if he'd actually pulled out a gun and shot her. He'd driven her to TEARS! TEARS!!

ON **VALENTINE'S** DAY!!

What the hell was wrong with him?! Did he have some sort of genetic romantic defect?! Yes, he had been out of the dating game for awhile but he was quite sure that making the woman you love cry on the most romantic day of the year was NOT a good move!

And he knew that he had to tell her now RIGHT now! If he didn't fix this HE was going to start crying in the middle of the Starbucks too!

So he took a quick look behind him to see if there was anyone he recognized in the coffee shop . . . no . . . it was after peak time and there were only a few people in there. So he took a deep breath and . . .

"HOTCH!"

_GOD __**DAMN**__ IT!!_

Hearing JJ's yell, Hotch whipped his head around to see their blonde media liaison waving frantically from the door . . . holding the cell phone that he'd DELIBERATELY left on his desk so that he could have exactly eight minutes of peace as he walked around the corner to get a cup of coffee!

"**WHAT?!" **Hotch barked in disgust.

And instantly regretted it when he saw JJ flinch.

He couldn't remember if he'd ever raised his voice to Jennifer Jareau in the entire time that he'd known her.

Probably not.

He adored JJ and even now she hadn't done anything wrong. She just had _incredibly_ bad timing!

As he tried to shield a crying Emily from her, Hotch made a mental note to apologize to his second favorite agent a little later.

"Uh . . . um," feeling a sting at Hotch's uncharacteristic rebuke, JJ stammered for a second. And then she remembered that she was an FBI agent and not a thirteen year old girl. Her voice firmed up as she raised the device in her hand again, "you forgot your cell and I need you! That issue in Ottawa blew up!"

Even if he was in a bad mood they still had an emergency.

Hotch's eyes widened . . . Ottawa! SHIT! WHY in God's name did that have to be RIGHT now?!

He swiveled his head back around to see Emily frantically wiping her face . . . and he felt another kick in the gut.

How was his luck THIS bad?! He makes Emily cry because she thinks her Valentine's Day presents were given out of pity. And JUST as he's about to apologize and spill his guts the FREAKING **MOUNTIES **call!

Well . . . he grunted in disgust . . . this was clearly NOT the way the day was supposed to go.

He stood up, waving over to JJ in irritation, "yeah, yeah I'm coming! Right behind you!"

As JJ ran back out again Hotch turned back to Emily . . . the irritation immediately fading as he looked down at her trying to fix her face.

God had he made a mess of this day. He held his hand out to her as he said quietly, "come on. You can help me with this one."

That was completely true . . . he always valued her insight . . . but more importantly, he didn't want to let her out of his sight again. As soon as this international crisis was addressed he was handling the more important domestic crisis.

Apologizing to the woman he loved for giving her such a crappy Valentine's Day.

Emily looked at Hotch's outstretched hand for a moment before she slowly extended her own.

On duty hand holding was uncharacteristic behavior from him.

The second Emily's fingers were within reach, Hotch grasped her hand tightly and tugged her to her feet. For a second he almost pulled her into a hug, but they didn't have time for that right now . . . they had to go. So he reluctantly let go of her soft fingers so he could pick up her coat from the back of the chair.

"It's cold out," he said softly as he held it open for her, "have to bundle up."

Though she knew that they had to get moving . . . they'd been monitoring a serial abductor/rapist out in Ottawa for weeks and apparently the shit had just hit the fan . . . Emily still looked at Hotch for a moment as she tried to blink the remaining moisture out of her eyes.

From the look on his face, for a second she almost thought something really important was happening. But then she realized that he was just being nice because she'd been crying. He was always really sweet when she cried.

Not that she did it that often . . . she slid her arm into her left sleeve . . . but they had known each other for a long time. They had gone through a lot of crappy days together and Hotch always had a good shoulder when she had a bad day.

So that's all it was . . . he pulled the coat up around her shoulders . . . he was being sweet because of the crying.

And she told herself that again as he gently ran his fingers under her hair to release it from her collar. Then she said it again to calm the butterflies in her stomach as he brushed his thumb along the corner of her eye to fix her makeup. And then she said it one more time as he took her hand again and started hurrying them out the door.

With her other hand she wiped the last of the moisture from her cheek.

Hotch was being sweet because she was crying . . . he squeezed her fingers and the butterflies came back again . . . that's all it was.

/////////////

Hotch bit back a grown as Dave asked for the third time if the RCMP wanted one or all of them to fly out to assist.

_No. For the third time Dave . . . NO! _

The Mounties were _adamant_ that they didn't want anyone to fly out to help them. They just wanted to have access to their expertise and to handle the rest of it on their own. Okay, fine, Hotch certainly wasn't going to belabor the point. They had absolutely no jurisdiction in Canada and plenty of violent crimes to assist with in the U.S of A. so he'd pretty much taken the "thank you, no," for a final answer the first time he heard it. So instead of calling wheels up when he got today's call, Hotch had ended up slowly pulling his entire team into the conference room to provide insight and advice from 600 miles away.

They were now moving into hour three of the call. It was one of the few times in his life that Hotch was truly resentful of his job.

Even when he was getting divorced it wasn't the job that was to blame. After all, he'd chosen the career that he had chosen and he was the one that had decided to stay with the career when his marriage was falling apart and his wife wanted him to transfer.

Still though, he'd stayed. Haley might have resented his job but he never had.

But today all he could think about as he sat next to Emily at the conference table was her crying in Starbucks. The tears were gone, her eyes had cleared, and she was in complete professional mode now, but that didn't matter. Because he knew that she wasn't truly happy. That she believed that the card and the flowers were just pity offerings from a woman who felt sorry for her because she didn't have anyone in her life.

And he was responsible for her coming to that conclusion . . . his gust twisted . . . HE was responsible for making her cry. So he desperately needed to talk to her . . . to let her know that she wasn't alone, that somebody did love her and wanted to be with her.

But he couldn't HAVE that conversation right now!

He couldn't have it because he had to help the fucking Royal Canadian Mounted Police find a rapist and the three college students he'd snatched on their way home from a frat party!

Yes, of course he knew that made him a terrible person to be resentful that the search for these women was fucking up his personal life! But he'd already sacrificed an entire FAMILY for his career and he was trying to not lose his one shot at future happiness, so he felt like he was entitled to a few petty thoughts. But it's not like he wasn't still fully engaged in the conversation on the speakerphone and doing EVERYTHING possible to help these women.

It's just that while he was doing those things, he also had a little voice in the back of his head screaming, 'HANG UP THE PHONE! FOR ONCE LET SOMEBODY ELSE DEAL WITH THE WORLD'S CRISES!'

As long as he continued to ignore the voice . . . his pen began to tap in agitation against his legal pad . . . then he figured he wasn't a complete asshole.

His eyes shifted over to Emily making notes on her own pad of paper. Just a little while longer sweetheart . . . he thought . . . just a little while longer.

////////////

A little while longer turned out to be another hour. It was almost five by the time they hit a breakthrough. Reid and his geographical overlays once again were the lynchpin to the case, and Hotch honest to God could have kissed him when he yelled out his standard, "hey, guys," that meant he'd had a light bulb moment.

After they'd passed along their best . . . educated . . . guesses as to where the women would be found, Hotch wished the detectives luck and hung up the call.

He tried not to look too eager.

"Well," he looked over the faces of his team, "good work everyone. Now, I know it's still a little early," he stood up, making sure to put his hand on Emily's shoulder to hold her in place, "but why don't you all get out of here? I'm sure some of you have plans tonight."

In the race for the door . . . all of them had plans so nobody had to be told twice to cut out early on Valentine's Day . . . Hotch didn't miss the flash of pain on Emily's face as she sat next to him.

It's not like he'd wanted to bring up evening plans again before they'd had a chance to talk, but he did need to clear the room and that was the fastest way to do it.

Emily looked up at Hotch with an awkward smile, "well, I guess I should go see if Agent Crookshanks left me anything else."

God . . . Emily had a horrible thought as she stood up and Hotch's hand slipped off her shoulder . . . what if Crookshanks was waiting down there and she had to say thanks in person.

She just might start crying again.

"Uh," Hotch smiled softly as he tried to smooth over that statement without getting into anything yet, "well, maybe that could wait just a couple minutes," he scooped up both of their notepads and started guiding her out of the room with a hand on the small of her back, "come with me for a second please. There's something I wanted to show you in my office."

Emily frowned slightly as they stepped out of the conference room . . . another case. Now? Yes, she was a big loser with no plans for Valentine's Day, but that didn't mean she wanted to stay here half the night. She had big plans with a book, a hot bath and the gigantic tub of cookie dough ice cream she'd bought at Sam's Club last weekend.

But if Hotch needed her she didn't see how she could tell him that her inhaling two gallons of ice cream was more important than his case.

Her eyes shifted over to the man in question . . . the little nerve above his left brow was twitching.

He was agitated about something.

And she was just about to ask him what was wrong when they got to his office and he shuffled her inside. Then to her surprise he locked the door, closed the blinds and went over to his desk.

Her brow wrinkled as she followed him over and sat down in one of the visitor's chairs.

"So what is this," she asked with curiosity, "a Need To Know case or something?"

Well, if she did have to stay late tonight maybe it would at least be for something interesting.

Humph . . . she snorted to herself . . . she'd definitely been doing this job too long if plain old run of the mill serial killers were no longer 'interesting' unto themselves.

Despite his anxiety, Hotch's lip quirked up slightly at her question, "ah yes, I suppose in a way it is a Need To Know situation. But it's not actually a case."

Momentarily ignoring the questioning look on Emily's face, Hotch stooped down to open the bottom drawer of his desk. There were two boxes inside . . . one from a jewelry store he'd stopped at on his way home from work last night. And the other held an Internet printout of his ticket confirmation for next week for two tickets to Giselle at the Kennedy Center.

It was Emily's favorite ballet.

The tickets had only taken two minutes . . . and $300 . . . to purchase. But he didn't want to just give her the tickets. That was personal, and would make her happy, but he also wanted something more romantic.

Something unique to tell her how he felt.

And they'd fortunately landed early enough that he'd been able to go shopping for Valentine's Day presents at some place besides the gas station mini mart.

He picked up the smaller box and circled back around his desk, turning the other visitor's chair so it was facing Emily's. Then he looked up at the woman staring quizzically at him.

"Hotch, what's going on? You're acting funny."

Of course he'd been acting a little funny all day. Maybe the stress had finally gotten to him.

Hotch took her hand as he said apologetically, "I know. I'm sorry, it's just that I've been trying to tell you something all day and things . . . well," he gave her a nervous smile as he rubbed his thumb along the top of her hand, "things just didn't quite go the way I'd planned."

Emily stared at him . . . trying to tell her something. What was he . . . then her eyes dropped down to her hand nestled in his and the black velvet box sitting on his knee.

Her head snapped back up.

Suddenly that little spark of hope that she'd been dousing all day began to fill her heart once more.

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around his before she whispered, "what was it that you were trying to tell me?"

'_Please, please, please, please, PLEASE let it be that you're my valentine!' _she prayed in her head.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he whispered back, "I have let go of your hand for a second,"

As Emily released her grasp, he pulled his hand back to lift the cover on the small black box in his lap. Then he held it up in front of her as he said quietly, "I thought that you might want to add these to your collection."

He knew that she'd had a charm bracelet when was little. Everywhere he traveled her father would buy her a new charm. In fact he still did. And when Emily had gotten older she'd continued the tradition on her own as well. Not for cases of course, she wanted no mementos of cases, but whenever she went on vacation, she'd get a new trinket for her collection.

Her last one was from San Francisco when she went out for her college roommate's engagement party.

Emily's hands were shaking as she took the box from him. And then he saw her eyes start to water as she stared down at the little silver heart shaped charms inside.

_Be Mine_ . . . and . . . she felt a burst of joy . . . _I love you_.

The words were written like Valentine's Day candy hearts. Her tears began to spill over as she looked up at Hotch. And when she opened her mouth her voice cracked, "really?"

His face softened as he nodded, "really." Then he gave her a sad smile, "and I wanted to give you a good day and tell you tonight. But I kept screwing it up, and then when I saw how upset you were in Starbucks I was going to tell you everything but then JJ came in and . . . well . . ."

He trailed off figuring she knew the rest.

Emily reached over to touch Hotch's cheek as she gave him a watery smile, "I understand. And you were giving me a good day. Truly. It was my best day in years."

When she saw the wary look on his face Emily flashed on how she felt in Starbucks and she tipped her head, "okay, granted I was disappointed when I thought they were just a pity gift from Crookshanks but," her voice caught as her fingers traced over the charms in the box, "I just didn't think . . . I didn't think it could be you because after all these years of just being my friend, I had convinced myself that you didn't care about me that way."

Hotch brushed her hair back as he whispered, "I did," he kissed her softly before adding, "I do. I love you. I just was afraid to say anything. You know the rules prohibit it so I told myself that I needed to let it go," he bit his lip as he looked over sadly, "but I didn't want to let it go. And then yesterday when the girls were talking about their plans for today I saw the look on your face," he took a breath, "it hurts me to see you upset Emily. And I thought, given some things that had happened over the years, that you might feel the same way about me as I do about you."

Hopefully she did. Or else he was making a GIGANTIC ass out of himself right now!

"I do," she nodded vehemently as the tears started to pool again, "I absolutely do. I love you too."

God did it feel weird to finally say it out loud! But he was the brave one, he went first, and really she shouldn't have left him hanging as long as she had

"Good," his eyes crinkled as he sighed in relief, "very good, so I figured that it was time to say screw the rules," he squeezed her hands, "you're more important to me than my job."

Her eyes widened in surprise, "really?"

A faintly bitter smile touched his lips as he pulled away, "am I honestly that bad that you can't believe I could love you more than my job?"

Great, he can't even convince the woman he loves that he ranks her higher than a stack of dead bodies.

"No! No of course not," Emily reached over to rub his knee as she hastened to explain herself, "I just didn't think, well, . . . it's me," she huffed, "Hotch I haven't even gotten flowers on Valentine's day since Gideon was here . . ."

"_Gideon_ bought you VALENTINE'S Day flowers," Hotch repeated in horror.

What the hell?!

"NO!" Emily snorted, "God no! I just meant that's how LONG it's been since anyone's cared enough to even buy me FLOWERS, let alone, you know, risk their CAREER for me," she gave him a soft smile, "it's just unexpected."

Unbelievable, was more like it. This felt like a dream where she was going to wake up and discover a cold empty bed.

Hotch stared at her for a second and then he put her present on his desk and stood up, tugging Emily to her feet as he did so. Then he pulled her into his arms, squeezing tightly as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you ever felt that way. Somebody's cared about . . ." his voice got husky as he corrected himself, "somebody's _loved_ you, for a long time. I should have said something months ago."

She rubbed her cheek on his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping her. Then she tipped her head back and quirked up her lip, "yeah you should have," she teased. "Do you know how many toads I've been kissing all these years? I could have started my own arboretum."

Seeing his lips twitch she smiled as she leaned up on her tiptoes, "but I forgive you," she whispered right before she kissed him. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and grinned, "so what else do you have planned? I got my card, my pretty flowers, I LOVE my flowers by the way, and these beautiful charms. So am I getting some grub tonight too?"

She decided to have the charms put on a chain so she could wear them as a necklace. They were much too sweet to just put in her jewelry box.

Hotch's mouth quivered, "uh yes, I was planning on getting you some "grub" as well," he rubbed his hand down her back, "I made reservations if you want to go out, and I bought groceries if you want to stay in."

He was okay either way because really he was going to go as slow as she wanted. And just because they had known each other for six years didn't mean that he would expect that they'd go from what they were now to lovers in the span of a few hours.

Emily's eyes popped, "stay in of course! God, if you think I'm going to miss out on the good Valentine's Day sex," she slapped his very fine ass, "you're CRAZY!"

God, she'd known the man for six years! They had passed her four (spaced out) dates rule five years ago. That was about 48 hours after the ink on his divorce papers had dried.

Not that she'd been in love with him that long . . . that would be a tad bit sad. Just that was about the point where she'd started to stop seeing Hotch as her married boss and started seeing him as an extremely fine specimen of the male species.

Of course he'd been that before too but that gold band had indicated he'd been tagged and released back into the wild. Once the band was off he was fair game again. But he'd been a mess for such a long time after Haley left. And of course that's when Emily slowly started to fall for him.

He was like a wounded animal and all she'd wanted to do was to take that thorn out of his paw.

Hotch burst out laughing at her reaction, "all right, all right! I was just checking to make sure that we were on the same page."

Of course he should have known that they would be. Emily pressed against him as he leaned down to kiss her again . . . thank CHRIST he'd remembered to lock the door and pull the shades! Not that he was about to have sex in the office, but . . . but . . . .

The activities of Emily tongue made him lose his train of thought for a second.

What was it?

Oh right . . . his hand slid down to cup her ass and Emily began to moan as she rubbed against him . . . no sex in the office.

After another few minutes of making out and heavy petting to make up for lost time, Hotch steeled his reserve and pulled back, sucking in a breath, "okay, we have to stop now or we're going to have a major problem."

More specifically HE was going to have a major problem . . . how to shield what was shortly going to be a massive erection from the half dozen people probably still working in the bullpen.

There really weren't enough file folders in the world to cover the problem that was going to rise up if they didn't stop right now.

Emily started to giggle as she wiped her hand across his mouth to clean off her lipstick, "right, sorry."

Not that sex in the office didn't have plenty of appeal . . . especially after waiting SO long! But continuing to be gainful employed, paying the rent and putting food on the table had plenty of appeal too.

His eyes crinkled at the giggle . . . so cute . . . and then he brushed her hair back as he said with some amusement, "don't be sorry, just be quick about shutting down your computer and getting your coat." As she started to nod he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "and while you're doing that I'm just going to grab . . ."

Emily cut in with a scowl, "if you say you're going to grab some work to take home I'm going to knock you to the ground." As his eyebrow rose in amusement she grumbled, "fine, I'd TRY to knock you to the ground, but the point is, I won't be pleased."

Yes, he was a workaholic . . . that she accepted . . . and yes, they had many important cases to monitor . . . that she also accepted . . . but if he thought that he was taking home crime scene photos to look over on Valentine's Day, well, that was just . . . no.

Hotch's mouth quivered, "well, as amusing as it would be to see you," he shot her a look, "TRY to flatten me, I hadn't actually planned to spend my day pursuing you, declare my love and then take you home to do nothing but spend the evening looking over case files. At her sheepish look he continued, "what I was _going_ to say," he rolled his eyes, "was that I'd get my coat and your other present," he trailed off in a sing song voice, "but if you don't want your other present . . ."

"No!" Emily came back immediately as her eyes shot over his shoulder to see if she could tell what he'd bought, "no, I want it! What is it?"

Yes, she was being greedy but hey, drought to flood. She was lapping up whatever she could get.

Trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement at her excitement, Hotch raised his eyebrow as he asked, "are you sure you want it now? Because aside from your 'grub' this is all I have for you," he shook his head with mock sadness, "no more presents after this one."

Of course if he'd planned this out in his head a little better she wouldn't have even known there was another present until they were home.

Though she knew he was just teasing, Emily realized that in her excitement maybe she was giving him the wrong idea here . . . that the objects were making her happy and not the sentiment behind them.

So she smiled softly at Hotch as her arms slipped around his waist, "the presents are nice but I don't need them," she leaned against his chest, "just you telling me how you felt was enough to make it a perfect day," she tipped her head back to wink at him, "all the rest is just gravy."

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he kissed her forehead, then he huffed and tucked her back against his chest again. He'd been such an idiot for not telling her how he felt a year ago.

And he knew that she was sincere in what she said, but that didn't mean that he didn't want her to have nice things.

As an emotion, love was of course immeasurable, untouchable. But he could buy her things that would give some measure and weight to something so elusive.

They were tangible items to show her how much she meant to him. So he patted her back, "you have more gravy coming, so do you want your other present now or later?"

She leaned back and smiled, "your call, I'll be just as excited either way."

Really, he could have bought her white tube socks and she'd probably be over the moon when she opened them. She was JUST that happy right now!

Hotch chuckled as he stepped away from her, "but you don't know even know what it is yet."

Her brow rose inquisitively, "I'm sorry, what's your point?" As she saw his mouth quiver she grinned and jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "I'll go get my stuff."

"Okay," he stepped around his desk to take the other box from his drawer, "I'll meet you at your desk in a minute." As she started to step out she suddenly turned back, biting her lip, "actually Hotch, maybe I could meet you at your place. I want to get you a present."

Clearly she hadn't anticipated having a Hotch valentine so she hadn't had any gifts for him in reserve.

Hotch stared at her for a moment before he smiled, "you're my Valentine's Day present Emily. I don't need anything else."

He saw eyes start to water right before she rushed back over to kiss him again.

"Thanks," Emily sniffled as she pulled back, rubbing her hand down his chest, "well, then maybe I could get you something later and we'll say it's for Valentine's Day?" Then her nose wrinkled, "because you know I don't want to give you something crappy just for the sake of giving you something."

Like a free oil change from the gas station was about all she could think of getting quickly. That was a suck ass gift. And she knew this from personal experience because she got one on VD for her 28th year on the planet.

His eyes crinkled slightly, "okay, if you want, we can do that. But just know it's not necessary."

Really the thought of a reciprocal gift from her hadn't even crossed his mind until she brought it up. All he'd wanted today was for her to be happy and them to spend the evening together.

"I know," she sniffed as she stepped back from him, "I want to. But I want to think about it first so I guess I'll just have to keep you posted on when the gift's coming."

He winked, "can't wait," then he jerked his chin back towards the door, "okay, now go make like the Gingerbread Man."

Okay . . . he winced . . . clearly it was time to get Jack some new DVDs. Obviously he was watching WAY too much Shrek lately if Hotch was quoting fairy tales mid day in the office.

Seeing Hotch cringe at his own remark, Emily giggled as she backed up wiping the corner of her eye, "I'm going, I'm going."

She turned and hurried out the door and back to her desk. It was now after five so just about everyone else had cleared out.

The guys included.

Morgan was taking Reid on a double date. And Emily was admittedly dying to know who (what) Derek thought would be a suitable blind date for Spencer. Because . . . though she loved him dearly . . . Spencer's intelligence and well . . . she could say it because she was one too . . . geekiness . . . could probably be a little overwhelming for just some random girl Derek picked up in a bar.

Especially given the usually quality of intelligence of Morgan's bar harem.

MIT graduates they were not.

Oh well . . . she quickly shut down her computer and pulled on her coat . . . it's not like she could get a live video stream of their evening so she'll just have to settle for the blow by blow from Morgan tomorrow.

Hearing Hotch coming down the steps behind her Emily scooped up her bag and the vase of flowers. Then she spun around with a big smile, "READY!"

And her own geekiness takes a bow.

Okay . . . she rolled her eyes internally . . . whatever. Hotch had known her long enough to know that she was . . . on the rare occasion . . . a total spaz. And she was taking the "Be Mine" and "I Love You" etched in silver as solid indicators that her spastic geeky tendencies weren't a problem for him.

After all . . . a candy heart hadn't lied to her yet.

Hotch laughed as he put his hand on her back and started guiding her out of the office.

"Excited?" He asked rhetorically.

She was doing a remarkable imitation of Tigger bouncing down the lane.

Okay, that was his second cartoon reference in less than ten minutes. He was definitely getting Jack some new DVDs.

Feeling a slight warmth on her face, Emily gave him a sheepish smile, "yes, yes I am."

Okay, just because she and Hotch had both accepted the fact that she was a total geek didn't mean that she didn't wish that she wasn't. But as he flashed a dimple and patted her back in reassurance, her slight embarrassment faded away.

This is what she always wanted . . . somebody who would accept her . . . love her . . . without judgment.

As they walked across the bullpen, she started to lean into his side and then remembered the cameras . . . and the three agents still working. So she straightened up and sighed . . . this little balancing act was going to take some time to adjust to.

Hotch pushed the glass door open for her and then looked down, "hey on the way to my place would you like to stop at Georgia Brown's?"

Emily stopped on the other side of the door, her brow wrinkling in confusion as she looked up at him, "but Georgia Brown's isn't on the way to your place. That's like fifteen minutes out of the way."

Not to mention, why would they be going to a restaurant before they went home and he made her a home cooked dinner? Yes, she did love to eat. But if he was going to make her scarf down two entrees she was going to be WAY too tired to have the good Valentine's Day sex!

His lips twitched, "oh well, I heard that Morgan and Reid were taking their double dates there this evening and I thought you might like to be nosy," his eyebrow rose up in amusement, "Rossi said they're twins," he cleared his throat, "apparently Morgan met them at Pamela Anderson lookalike contest at Houlihans."

Hotch figured this knowledge would intrigue Emily. Also, he'd probably give a week's salary himself to see Reid conversing with a 36DD bleached blonde.

Times two.

Emily's jaw dropped in astonishment, and then it snapped shut again as she grinned from ear to ear.

"You are the most AWESOME man on the planet! And if not for the eye in the sky I would totally have you against that glass and be making out with you right now!"

She definitely had hit the jackpot! Handsome, smart, strong, funny, sweet and just as deliciously twisted as she was!

Clearly . . . she shifted her flowers as she started hurrying towards the elevator . . . this was a match made in heaven!

Quickening his step to keep up with her, Hotch called out in amusement, "so that's a yes to making a pit stop on the way home!?"

This was about the most excited he'd ever seen her . . . ever. Which worried him slightly because he was very much looking forward to the sex later and now he wasn't quite sure how he was going to top this.

She jammed the elevator button repeatedly as she yelled over her shoulder, "yes, it's a yes! Now come on!"

Hotch caught up with her just as the doors opened and he slipped his arm through hers and tugged her inside.

He looked down to see her eyes sparkling as she asked, "so was this my other present?" And he started to laugh, "uh, no. Spying on your coworkers was not your other Valentine's Day present. Rossi just told me today about the twins, and I know you'd been curious about Morgan's pick for Reid's blind date."

At her slowly rising eyebrow he tipped his head, "okay we were all curious about Morgan's pick for Reid's blind date. So I figured, what the hell, we'll call in a dessert order to go and you can get a little bonus amusement for the day."

And now he knew what to do if he got stuck for a future Valentine's Day gift, plan a little unauthorized surveillance of her family/friends. It was a little unconventional, but . . . his eyes crinkled as he looked down at the happy woman at his side . . . so was his valentine.

Emily smiled at Hotch as she slipped her fingers through his and tucked their hands out of sight from the cameras. It was easy enough given that they were standing by the back wall of the elevator. Unfortunately at the next floor, the car stopped and they had to separate as the doors opened. Three people got on and then two more at the next floor so Hotch and Emily were quiet for the rest of the ride down to the parking garage.

When they finally stepped into the chill of sub level P3 Hotch reached over and took her hand again.

After they had climbed into his car and were waiting for the heat to come on, he shifted his eyes over to look at her worriedly, "so, seriously, barring my screw-ups with forgetting to get you a vase and you nearly breaking your neck getting one down. And then later making you cry in the Starbucks on the corner because you thought nobody cared about you but Morgan's lesbian counterpart, have you otherwise seriously had a good day so far?"

After all that was the whole point here. And regardless of what she might have said earlier, he was a little afraid that he might have fallen short.

Emily's eyes crinkled as she placed her vase on the floor at her feet, "are you kidding me?" She looked back over at him in surprise, "this was my best Valentine's Day ever."

What was he thinking?

His brow rose up, "wow," he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, "that's . . . huh."

He'd nearly maimed her and THEN made her cry in public and this STILL ranked as her best one yet! As many stories as he heard, it never ceased to amaze him just how crappy Emily's love life had been.

Seeing from his reaction that he'd misunderstood her answer, Emily leaned across the seat and kissed him. Then she smiled as she leaned back, running her fingers along his jaw.

"It's the best one because I got you," she said softly.

Silly man.

"Oh," his lip quirked up, "okay then."

Well, that was much better. Then his brow creased . . . or was it?

He looked back over at her worriedly, "what was your second best?"

Maybe she had some fabulous gift in her past that he was going to have to top to maintain dominance as alpha male.

Pretending not to notice Hotch's tone . . . she knew EXACTLY where he was going with this . . . Emily answered nonchalantly, "um, let's see, second best was when I was twenty seven. I had thirteen hours of tantric sex where I had one orgasm alone that lasted forty-five minutes."

Hotch's eyes bugged out as he yelped, "THIRTEEN . . . FORTY . . .!"

WHAT THE FUCK!? A forty five minute orgasm!? Good GOD! He thought that was a myth!!

Seeing that she'd sufficiently scared the crap out of him, a grin slid across Emily's face as she yelled, "KIDDING!" and leaned over to smack another kiss on him.

As she sat back in her seat Hotch sputtered angrily, "that's NOT funny Emily! I'm forty-nine years old! I can't have sex for thirteen hours straight unless you want me to have a HEART attack!"

Christ he didn't even think that he could have gone thirteen hours straight at twenty! That was just not safe!

Emily clamped down on her lip as she tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing at the look of righteous indignation on his face. Finally she swallowed her giggles and tried to make amends.

"I'm sorry honey," she said consolingly . . . if not quite deferentially . . . as she patted his cheek, "it was just a joke."

He harrumphed in response. And noting the residual scowl as he started the car, Emily squeezed his fingers as she gave him a saucy smile, "if you wipe that grumpy look off your face I might be inclined to engage in activities tonight that would otherwise perhaps only be on the agenda for your birthday."

Given how straight laced Hotch was Emily didn't imagine there was anything too kinky even on his birthday list. And if there was, well, she'd just have to take a couple of yoga classes to gear up.

She wasn't quite as bendy as she was in her younger years.

Hotch stared at her for a moment as a number of scenarios ran through his head. Finally he settled on a really good one and he grinned, "what look?" He peeled out backwards, looking over his shoulder as he shook his head dismissively, "there is no look at all."

She clicked her seatbelt with a chuckle, "didn't think so."

As they started down the exit ramp he said casually, "we have to make one more stop after Georgia Brown's."

Emily's eyebrow rose up as she looked over at him, "oh, where?"

"Ben & Jerry's," he shot her a glance, "you know for the other activities that you might be inclined to engage in if I wiped that grumpy look off my face."

Thank God she wasn't allergic to nuts.

Her lips twitched as she reached over and took his hand, "lead on MacDuff."

Ben & Jerry's was her original plan for the evening . . . Emily sighed happily as he tore out of the parking garage and she slumped back against her seat clutching his fingers . . . definitely a match made in heaven.

* * *

_A/N 2: Done. And it came in WAY longer than I thought it would but they just kept chattering on. Plus, I really liked this version of them. Really, I could have followed them for the rest of the evening but I never would have finished! Though if at all possible I might come back and revisit them again for another one shot or a really short story. _

_And they really do make those candy heart shaped silver charms. I saw them on google images. They were cute. And I thought it was a unique way to say I love you. _


End file.
